


A Fair Fight

by dahkani



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, All Kinds of Flirting. THey are Flirting, Angst, Bad Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunken Flirting, Flirting Through Fighting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Tension, clover is a bit more smug and cocky, qrow has no clue how to handle feelings, raven is done with her brothers shit, taiyang and summer are taking bets on how long it takes for fair game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahkani/pseuds/dahkani
Summary: Bored with the dismal competition, Qrow Branwen meets an insufferable and perfect little boy scout during the final Vytal Festival of his Beacon career that he takes more than a passing interest in. Still, he adamantly refuses to admit he could possibly like someone so suffocatingly perfect. It's not until he has a fair fight that he doesn't want to end that he begins to admit that maybe Clover isn't so bad after all.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 57
Kudos: 246





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> STRQ ERA FAIR GAME STRQ ERA FAIR GAME STRQ ERA FAIR GAME STRQ ERA FAIR GAME  
> Set during the Vytal Festival in Team STRQ's final year. As a reference for ages, they are 20-21!

A dodge just a fraction of a second too late had Raven tumbling down the slope of a steep hill and dangerously close to the edge of the arena. When she reached the bottom, she sprung up, fury burning in her eyes. A mean look wasn’t enough to win them the fight, though. A clean hit to her chest sent her flying out of bounds, and Qrow found himself staring down two enemies. 

Merle Blanc, a girl from Shade who wielded two daggers which crackled with energy. He still had no idea what her Semblance could be. The other, a man named Seamus Laurel; with a Semblance so annoying Qrow pitied his teammates. It was a hard one to miss. Every time he clicked his fingers, he could create flashes of bright light. That distraction had been all they’d needed to take Raven Branwen of all people out. However, judging by how they hadn’t went on the offensive, Qrow figured they weren’t that great in a full on fight - that they’d needed that element of surprise. Humming, he tapped the hilt of Harbinger, carefully thinking about his next move.

Nah, fuck that. Careful wasn’t how Qrow did things.

With a blast of blinding speed, he launched himself towards them, brandishing Harbinger above his head and smashing it down atop Merle. She easily dodged, and Qrow tracked her movement, readying another attack. As he moved to strike, he heard the click behind him, and had the presence of mind to force his eyes shut. 

That small window of time was all Merle needed. She’d already vanished. He used the momentum of his swing to carry himself forward, but Merle followed him, striking from behind. The energy of those blades seemed to course through his Aura before sending him flying backwards. At least it explained how they’d taken care of Raven so easily. To their detriment, however, they’d lost their greatest asset. Qrow wasn’t so stupid he fell for the same trick twice.

He’d wanted to take care of the unknown danger factor first, but that just wasn’t looking possible. Fine. He’d have to forget trying to fight like some noble huntsman. This was the kind of situation he and Raven had been in countless times before and they’d always came out on top.

Harbinger changed shape, and he fired a shot directly in front of himself, aimed at the ground. The resulting explosion brought up enough dirt and debris to buy him some cover; it was their own trick turned against them. He circled around to the side, into the shroud of the forest. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he struck.

A shot from Harbinger drew their attention to where Qrow had been standing a single breath before. It was already too late. Like a bird of prey swooping down for the kill, Qrow was in the air, greatsword in hand. To their credit, they noticed him coming as he got too close, and narrowly sidestepped a crushing blow. Pulling Harbinger out of the earth it was embedded in, he transformed it into a scythe as he jumped off the ground, two daggers impaling the air of where he had just been standing. With a flick of his wrist and a turn of his hips, he spun in the air, Harbinger’s scythe knocking them both away from each other. 

As soon as he landed, he leapt from the ground, descending on Seamus again in a flurry of blows; it was a low sweep sending him crashing to the floor that sealed his fate. Seamus tried to counter-attack, using the variety of Dust embedded in his clothes. The sharp steel of Harbinger cut through it all as if it were confetti.

And then he heard it. The footsteps of Merle he’d been straining to listen out for as she came to help her teammate. Qrow flourished Harbinger, bringing it back to his side, standing over Seamus. He brought it down in a high arc; it easily pierced the Dust-infused scarf Seamus wore, pinning him to the ground. 

Qrow kicked off the ground, using Seamus as a ramp just to add a bit of salt to the soon-to-arrive wound. Merle had charged at him with her blades, but rather than striking him, a swift kick to her chest from above sent her crashing on top of Seamus. He landed, grabbing Harbinger once more, and two bullets had Merle dropping her weapons. Qrow absentmindedly kicked them out of reach, and had his blade hovering above her for a brief second. If she had a Semblance worth using in combat, she’d have used it by now. 

He could tell by the look in her eyes she hadn’t been graced with a Semblance with much strength in combat. He sighed.

“Tough luck, huh?”

Two quick strikes, and the fight was over.

“Amazingly, the winner of this round is Qrow Branwen of Team STRQ!” Oobleck declared. 

Qrow was already tired of all the yelling and stunned looks. He glanced at his opponents as they brushed themselves off, downcast looks on their pretty faces. 

“Good fight,” he lied. With not a word more, drowning out all the sounds of the arena around them, he left the way he’d arrived. 

The Vytal Festival was meaningless to Qrow. He’d hoped to at least meet some pretty girls, have a few good fights, and that would be the end of it. Instead, all he got were lukewarm fights with people far below his level. It was to be expected, of course. He and Raven had been raised differently. This was why they’d even enrolled; to know the weaknesses of huntsman. Well, he knew plenty of their weaknesses. But doubts still lurked in the corners of his mind. He never could ignore the yells of villages they’d freshly raided. He’d always chosen mercy where he could give it. But he wasn’t convinced he wanted to return to the tribe. Could he, even if he wanted to? 

“Nice fight out there.” 

Qrow blinked. Where was he again? He’d gotten so lost in thought he’d just trusted his feet would take him where he needed to be. He recognized the walls as the halls of Amity Colosseum; he didn’t recognize the man behind him. He chanced a glance behind him, and spotted another man walking towards the blinding light he could only assume was the arena he’d just left. The tail hanging lazily as he walked gave him away as a Faunus, and it twitched as Qrow stared, as if the man was aware he was being watched. The Faunus glanced behind him, locking eyes with Qrow and then looking back at the other man, before continuing on his walk. 

“Thanks?” Qrow said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the sight of the man. Maybe it was just the Atlas uniform, or the pin on his chest. Whatever it was, something about him made his stomach turn. 

“My name’s Clover Ebi. You were pretty impressive out there, y’know.” Clover was all smiles and warmth, but when he reached out his hand, Qrow didn’t shake it. 

“Thanks.” 

An increasingly awkward silence followed, and Qrow hoped Clover would get the hint and leave already. Infuriatingly, he just stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights, and smirked his conman’s smile. 

“Well, I do hope you’ll watch one of my matches. When I meet you in the finals, I’d hate to have an unfair advantage,” Clover said, winking after he said it. Qrow’s eyes would have widened in shock had he not had such a well-trained poker face.

“I’d win even if you did,” Qrow stated plainly. When he considered his Semblance, it just seemed like a fact: he was always fighting on the backfoot. Clover knowing a few of his tricks wasn’t a big deal. Pushing Clover aside, he continued walking outside, letting his feet take him wherever his body wanted to go. It didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t the one going to the finals; Raven was. They were both as adept as each other. Why risk his Semblance going haywire and losing them the tournament? But he’d be damned if he just handed that information to the enemy. 

God, he needed a drink.

\-- ⚙ -- 

“You were amazing, Qrow!” Summer chirped, with all the energy of a newborn chick. She jumped up to grab Qrow in a warm hug, dangling off of his neck with surprising strength. Before he even knew what was happening, he returned the hug on instinct alone, and smiled. 

“Thanks, Rosebud,” Qrow sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Taiyang stepped forward to peel Summer off of him, giving Qrow both a sheepish grin and a punch on the shoulder as congratulations. Raven sat off to the side, silently stowing, and Qrow could tell from her adamant gaze she was embarrassed by her performance. Best to leave it for now.

“You’re just in time for the next fight! It’s team…” Summer stuttered, looking away in confusion. Taking the hint, Tai and Qrow turned to look at the board; the letters ‘CHRM’ scrolling across the bottom. With nothing to lose, Summer fielded a guess. “As in… chrome?” 

“No, no, it’s definitely charm,” Taiyang said, exuding his usual warm confidence. Summer shot him a look with her eyebrows furrowed, shaking her head. 

“What kind of name is charm?” Summer asked, her tone slightly mocking, but a spot of laughter kept Taiyang’s feelings safe. He simply shrugged and told her his guess was just as good as his. Qrow, on the other hand, scoffed. 

“Does it matter? They’re from Atlas.” 

Summer pouted at Qrow’s comment, giving him a look of disappointment. “Qrow, you really shouldn’t talk like that! The Vytal Festival is meant to bring the kingdoms together, it’s a time of--”

Qrow tutted her to silence and stepped past her, taking a seat next to Raven who offered him a curt nod in greeting. “I don’t hate them because they’re from Atlas,” Qrow said. “I just don’t think they’re as special as they think they are.”

Unwilling to fight him on it, Summer simply sighed and turned to talk to Taiyang again, leaving the Branwen twins to sit in comfortable silence. Qrow didn’t care about watching any of the fights; he was just here for his team. Even if he did care, it was impossible to concentrate. The light of the sweltering sun made the arena blinding. Looking at it too long just gave Qrow a headache and it wasn’t worth the pain. 

So instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head. The heat made him groggy, and sleeping with the tribe had left him no stranger to drowning out a loud night. In no time at all, the chatter of Summer and Taiyang dimmed to birdsong, and Raven slipped from her seat beside him and vanished into nothingness. The roaring crowd of the festival bothered him less and less, and then, there was sweet silence.

But he just couldn’t sleep. His eyes shot open and the sounds of the crowd came rushing back to meet him. He looked around; he’d barely slept ten minutes. Tutting, he kicked up his feet and sank down into his chair. Raven was still staring straight ahead. Taiyang and Summer had wandered off. With nothing better to do with his time, Qrow lazily rested his head on knuckle, watching the games below with all the interest of a lazy cat.

He recognized that man fighting. What had he said his name was? Something stupid, that was all Qrow could remember. Glancing at the scoreboard, he saw something interesting below his name - which he now remembered as Clover Ebi. His Aura hadn’t depleted at all.

Now that made Qrow sit up and take notice.

As if it were a scene masterminded by a puppeteer, Clover seemed to perk up at that, even glancing in his general direction; it would’ve been too far to make out a single face unless he had perfect vision. Qrow laughed at that thought. One more perfect thing to add to a list that was far too long. 

Clover and his teammate both stood proudly, moving with the practiced harmony of a well-oiled machine. Qrow raised an eyebrow at that: one foot out of line, one unexpected tragedy; one little mistake… and that Atlas machine broke down and sputtered like it was begging for its life. 

Clover swung with his weapon; Qrow had questions about that. He wasn’t anywhere near them. His questions were simultaneously answered and validated when the tip of his blade flew forward, cutting through the air and wrapping around the arm of one of his opponents. Why bother looking at them? They were nothing interesting. Clover, on the other hand…

The muscles in his arms tensed as he used his weight to throw his catch towards them, and his teammate - Mallow? - swooped in. The very instant his blade connected, Clover had already released his grip to prevent himself from flying away with their opponent. While his teammate continued to pressure one of their opponents, Clover didn’t let the other breathe. Snapping like a whip, the blunt side of his blade hissed through the air. 

Either Clover had done his research on his opponents or he had a shred of independent thought not found in most Atlas soldiers-to-be. Qrow scoffed at the idea of calling them huntsman. Well, was he much better? 

He pushed that thought away. One look at Clover’s opponents told you everything you needed to know; the one Clover was keeping dutifully at arms length was woefully incapable of firing back or even closing the gap much at all without a wire yanking him back into place. His teammate was clearly meant to be the balancing factor, but she was occupied.

Was. A buzzing drone let them all know her Aura was all but gone and she was no longer fighting fit.

The rest of the fight took all of three seconds.

Clover’s teammate Qrow didn’t care about spun around on his heel and finally decided to start pulling his damn weight rather than beating up the training dummy Clover had handed him. His eyes narrowed with a ferocious intensity that almost unnerved Qrow; not so easy a feat with all the things he’d already seen at such a young age. He barked a command that reverberated through the arena, silencing the entire area. “STAY!”

Clover pounced on the defenseless huntsman whose movements had slowed to such a crawl he may as well have been stationary. Judging by how Marrow’s pose was equally as stiff, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why he hadn’t just opened with that and made himself a sitting duck. Qrow glanced at the scoreboard to check, and sure as silk, his Aura was slowly dripping down. It certainly explained why he’d been selected for the doubles round. Take out one, and you’d essentially taken out both of them.

But for as powerful as that Semblance was, Qrow’s eyes were all on Clover. The thinnest possible layer of sweat lined his skin. His hair had barely moved an inch and his clothes didn’t even have a speck of dirt on them, as if he hadn’t tried at all. His Aura was still at a steady 100 on the boards. With dramatic flair, he sheathed his weapon and placed it on his hip. He congratulated his teammate, before turning to the crowds. Qrow half expected him to wave and bask in the warm glow of cheering spectators like he didn’t get enough praise already.

To his surprise, those eyes instead searched him out with efficiency that suggested he’d known where he’d been the entire time. Clover smirked at him, giving him another playful wink that seemed part of his brand, and time seemed to stop for Qrow.

It was Summer who brought him back to reality, closing his gaping mouth and looking at him with childish glee. What was she so happy about? Qrow shook his head to clear his thoughts before his face returned to disinterest.

“That guy pisses me off,” Qrow said, standing up and beginning to leave. He wanted air that hadn’t come from the mouths of hundreds of other people.

“Suuure he does,” Summer drawled when she thought he was out of earshot. Like a volcano erupting, something flashed in Qrow’s eyes and he spun around to glare at Summer as a warning.

It didn’t work. She and Taiyang just sat there, barely containing their laughter at their teammate. 

“What’s so funny, then?” Qrow demanded. He didn’t like being laughed at. He didn’t like not being in on the joke, not knowing what was really going on.

“Nothing, nothing,” Summer reassured, waving him away with her hand before snickering with Taiyang again. Qrow just didn’t have the time for this.

“I’ll be at the dorm,” Qrow said, walking away and giving them a casual wave goodbye. 

That guy really did piss him off. Something in the way he carried himself just screamed arrogance. His weapon was so stupid Qrow would have gladly mocked him a thousand times before had they been in any classes together. Clover was lucky he didn’t go to Beacon for that alone. The way his hair stuck up like the spines of a porcupine, or how his arms thick with muscle tensed with every movement of his weapon. Who wore a shirt like that? Damn show-off. Most of all, why was Clover so damn obsessed with him, talking to him like they were friends? 

Everything about that little ball of sunshine pissed him off. He couldn’t wait for the festival to be over.

\-- ⚙ -- 

“Qrow, wake up! Qrow!” 

Qrow shot upright as if jolted to life by electricity before wincing in pain as spots clouded his vision. He’d sat up too fast. Rubbing his weary eyes, he looked around. He must have fallen asleep when he’d gotten to the dorm. 

“Finally. You sleep too much, Qrow,” Summer chided, eyes glowing with concern like a mother. Qrow waved her away, about to speak until Raven had to pipe up.

“At least he’s sleeping in his own bed this time,” Raven drawled, not even looking up from the book she was reading, sitting in the bed opposite Qrow’s. Unfortunately, he couldn’t decide if that was a comment about the strange places he woke up after Beacon parties, or something a little more personal. Just to be safe, he gave her a dirty look anyway, and she shot back with a smile too sweet to be sincere.

“What?” Qrow asked, demanding to know what was so important he’d been woken up. He didn’t like being alone with his thoughts, so he slept. But he wasn’t alone anymore, at least, and he not-so-secretly enjoyed the company of his team. Nearly four years together could make anyone friends.

“I’m stepping down,” Raven spoke, breaking the silence. “Those lucky bastards landed a good hit on me, and when I fell from the arena, I unfortunately landed on my wrist.” From the look on her face after the words were already said was penance enough for Qrow to forget about it, but everyone in the room recognized that “unfortunately” wasn’t the greatest word choice when you had a walking magnet for bad luck with a streak for blaming himself that was only tempered by Summer smacking him upside the head when he wallowed in self pity or said it was his fault.

“I’m not fighting in the singles round. Summer and Tai can’t participate because they weren’t in the doubles round. So, it has to be you.” 

Qrow groaned at that, falling back into bed, narrowly avoiding hitting the headboard. Summer jumped back up to her feet, turning to go sit on her own bed, resting above Raven’s, taking her scroll out her pocket and humming innocently to herself. “You’ll do great, Qrow!”

“Just don’t get distracted,” Tai smirked, and Qrow’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed Tai was in the room. As if to explain, tanned skin, blond hair and a chin decorated by sparse hairs he couldn’t be bothered to shave that morning popped into view, baby blue eyes looking down at him from the bunk above. “You might have to fight that guy from Atl--”

If there was one thing these years at Beacon had taught Taiyang, it was exactly when Qrow was going to strike. His eyes widened, then narrowed with his eyebrows tense, and he got a murderous look in his eyes that faded as quickly as it came. He got out of the way of a book thrown with malicious intent, laughing at the reaction he’d gotten as proof of what he said. He opened his mouth, not willing to let up, leaning over the side of his bed to look at Qrow again. His mouth snapped shut when he saw the look of a raw, almost primal fear.

As fate would have it, the book Qrow had launched like a bullet had hit an already frustrated Raven.

In the silence that followed between Qrow and Taiyang, the sound of Raven’s book slamming shut was the only warning they needed. In the blink of an eye they had ran out of the room before Raven was even out of her bed. She stormed after them, grabbing Omen as she walked, screaming their names in anger like boiling water.

Summer sighed as though she was annoyed, but she kicked off the bed and onto the floor, beginning to follow the sound of screams as Raven chased the boys all around the dorm rooms. Any minute now they’d break out into Beacon territory and begin terrorizing the professors and even students of the years below. Someone had to get them to calm down, and Ozpin had long since given up trying, merely looking at them with wonder.

There was never a dull moment at Beacon Academy as long as Team STRQ were there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Tumblr! @dahkani
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. There's plenty more to come, and yes, the 'fair fight' you were promised in the title is coming in Chapter 2. We need that BUILD UP BRO.


	2. A Fair Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The homoerotic fight scene we all deserved complete with Raven not being a trashbag. SOFT DATE TO FOLLOW IN CHAPTER 3
> 
> Also, a double-length chapter!

On the morn of the beginning of the final matches of the Vytal Festival, Qrow was the first to wake. His skin itched and his muscles ached, every hair on his body standing on edge. Sitting up, he glanced around; he could hear Taiyang snoring from up above, and Summer was practically hanging off the edge of her own bed. Raven was turned away from him, facing the wall. The only sign of her was her hair, tangled and messy, black as night against the gentle white of her covers. 

Waking up before the sun was a habit he’d broken only after a year at Beacon, mostly at the behest and aggressive concern of Summer. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to tell her that time was of vital importance. It wasn’t until his third year he found out that Summer’s head never hit her pillow until she was convinced Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang were asleep. After that, it had taken the three of them all their strength to get her to rest.

For better or for worse, they were a family now. Qrow couldn’t even remember the faces of the bandits he had been born into. She’d never admit it, but Qrow knew Raven felt the same way. She was torn. One side of her longed to return to her tribe as she’d promised. The other knew it meant abandoning the life she’d carved out for herself; it meant abandoning her true family. When Qrow brought it up, she told him every lie she told herself as if it would make them true. How she was just making sure she knew everything; she was just waiting until they graduated; she couldn’t leave now without being suspicious. 

The Raven that Qrow knew didn’t hesitate for a second. That was proof enough. 

Taking a moment to stretch, Qrow sighed; Tai would never forgive him if he woke them up too early after such a chaotic day. Forcing himself into an unnatural calm, he searched for that power, feeling it well up within his soul. It was a stain of green against a deep crimson; just a few shades lighter than his sister’s. Thoughts of freedom and escapism fueled it, and in an exhilarating rush, he transformed. At least now he wouldn’t wake them. He flew outside via the window, always left slightly open as they slept. When they weren’t careful, STRQ always received a few questioning glances as to why they had birds in their room. The thought almost broke Qrow’s concentration, and so he reasoned it’d be best to land. 

He always found walking a tad more challenging than it had any right to be after flying. Harbinger suddenly became heavier than it should ever be, his muscles aching with a pain that ebbed away as quickly as it came. Raven complained of the same, and they reached an unspoken agreement to use it as sparingly as possible. Ozpin had warned them off the potential side effects, yet reassured them it was totally safe. What reason did they have to doubt him? 

Flashing his scroll, he unlocked the doors to the training hall and gym. Naturally, Beacon had regularly maintained facilities available for use at any moment of the day, provided you were a student or professor at Beacon. Technology gifted from Atlas allowed for a practically endless array of training dummies, which you’d have to be a fool to not take advantage of, in Qrow’s eyes. 

Walking up to one of the terminals, he punched in a few commands. A fairly regular regime, set in a sizeable court, progressively getting harder. Enough to wake him up and loosen his muscles, but it’d be difficult to justify it as real practice for someone with his level of training. That way he wouldn’t get too tired. 

Rolling his shoulders, he stepped into the boundaries, activating the program. Transparent walls made with hard-light Dust sprung up like a cage, boxing him in. It wasn’t until he stepped into the very middle of the arena the first dummy was created. He heard it forming before he even saw it, and raw instinct twitched at his fingers, pulling them into place like the strings of a puppet and firing a bullet. It cleaved it clean in two, the Dust scattering onto the floor like petals.

First, a slow and steady stream of hardlight dummies, appearing in random locations and steadily advancing towards him. They never got more than two steps in; a bullet, kick, or steel meeting them halfway and ruining them. They started getting faster, more arriving, surging forward like a wave. Broad sweeps with his greatsword shattered them like glass. It wasn’t until he swung backwards and his blade stopped in mid-air that he realized something had changed. 

“You always were a light sleeper,” Qrow sighed, knowing damn well who the only person who’d be brave enough to bother him this early would be his sister. Her thin blade was easily holding his back, but she only wielded it with one hand. Qrow didn’t want to abuse weakness she wouldn’t normally have.

“Something’s bothering you,” Raven said, always cutting straight to the heart of the matter. She released his sword, ducking to avoid how it curved in a lazy arc. She thrusted as if her sword were a spear, a deadly blow that would’ve skewered him had he not seen it coming. Raven was moving a bit slower than usual.

“Trying to kill me?” Qrow teased, taking a step back with a hand on his hip. 

“Please, Qrow,” Raven scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her brother, eyes filled with distant affection, like the rays of the sun blessing Remnant with sunlight. “If that killed you, I’d begin to worry where the real you had been taken.” As if to punctuate her point, she lurched forwards again, a slice that moved faster than the eye could see nearly taking Qrow’s head off, but the scythe of Harbinger had caught it. Using his weight, he yanked hard, threatening to take Omen out of its wielders hands. Ever devious, Raven allowed it to happen, letting go of her weapon and dropping slightly lower to the ground. Reaching up as it travelled, Qrow caught Omen with his left hand, glancing at it fondly.

Raven’s plan soon became clear. Closing the distance between them, she grabbed Harbinger with her injured hand, wincing all the while. Next, a vicious elbow to his ribs keeled him over, and he relinquished his weapon to avoid any further injury. They stood at opposite ends now, each wielding the others weapon. 

“Which is why I’ve got to ask,” Raven began, Harbinger changing shape at the slight shift of her finger. A bullet fired was easy blocked by Qrow with Omen; a sword strong enough to withstand just about anything. “Why exactly are you training right now? You’ve never been one to make it a habit. And during the Vytal Festival of all things? You won your last match completely alone against two Huntsman our age. What makes you think you need the extra power?”

Qrow’s mind went blank at that, flickering back to the man who’d pissed him off so much. He needed to be ready. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing to that smug smile coming from that perfect little boy scout of a Huntsman. But petty grudges were the kind of thing Raven would chide him for; Qrow at least needed a good reason to hate his guts if it was going to affect him this badly. Instead of responding, he leapt forward, unleashing a flurry of swift strikes like snow falling in a blizzard, the hiss of Omen cutting the air like frostbite.

That was the only answer she needed: the sting of Qrow’s strikes rather than his sharp tongue.

Harbinger spun in her hands like a baton, effortlessly knocking Qrow’s attacks off balance. Qrow’s foot stepped just barely out of line, and Raven’s eyes flashed when victory was at hand. Her own foot stepped forward, leg wrapping around Qrow’s own and pushing it off the ground. Transforming Qrow’s weapon as she swung, Raven used the blunt hilt to send him crashing to the ground. Her foot pinned him down by the chest with the steel of Harbinger aimed at his neck. As quickly as it began, the fight was over.

“You’re off your game, Qrow,” Raven sighed, dropping Harbinger to the side and offering him a helping hand up. Qrow dusted himself off and gave a hoarse sigh. It was a good thing the festival wouldn’t begin for a few hours. It would be ample time for his Aura to recharge and to deal with the dull aching of his body. As Raven spoke, he walked towards the edge of the arena, placing his hand against a section of the wall. With just a light flare of his aura, like a stray spark from a towering flame, that section of hard-light Dust momentarily powered down to allow him access in and out, and he took his Scroll out of the terminal, deactivating it all for good.

“You and I are equals when I’m not injured, yet I beat you easily with a weapon that’s not my own and while my wrist is sprained. What’s gotten into you?” 

Always with a funny way of showing it, Raven cared, at least. Qrow grunted. He didn’t really know why. He’d felt it since the moment he’d woke up. How his muscles felt worn like the edge of a dulled blade. Whenever his mind went still, he thought of Clover, like a droplet of water that disturbed a gentle river.

Raven waited for an answer that never came. She shook her head and sighed. Before she left to rejoin her team, she turned to look at him softly. Something about it reminded them of the look she had given him as they had huddled together, lost in the cold of a cargo train heading to Beacon, words spoken softly like a snowflake shivering in the air. “We’ll have each other, Qrow. We’ll always have each other,” she had said. The tribe never forgets their family.  
She turned around and went to leave, hand on the door. It hesitated for a moment, so unlike the girl who walked with purpose and intent, like a bull seeing red. “If you’re thinking about anything other than the fight, you’re always going to lose, Qrow.” 

That made him scoff as soon as she left. Always great with advice, his sister was. Suddenly devoid of any desire to fight, he left like a shadow, stalking the walls of Beacon until dawn, his eyes flickering up to the moon that seemed to watch him, beckoning him to follow it to the ends of the earth.

\-- ⚙ -- 

“I was worried sick about you!” Summer scolded, following him down the long hallway to the preparation room, Atlas security officials unsure if they should escort her back to the stands. Qrow snorted, glancing at her.

“Why? You had Raven. She could’ve whipped up a portal to me any time.” 

Summer pouted at that as if she were a kid on Christmas Eve, denied her presents for one night longer. “I asked, but she wouldn’t do it. Told me you could take care of yourself. I know you can! It’s nothing like that. I just don’t like you randomly disappearing in the middle of the night!”

Summer always could make him laugh. She had the energy of a child, the mind of an adult, and the rebellious streak of a teenager that made her the perfect leader for STRQ. He’d doubted her at first, but warmed up pretty quickly. It had taken a daring plan to save Team STRQ from almost certain doom that had earned her Raven’s respect. Taiyang had been the only one willing to give her a chance right away, and had acted as a mediator whenever Summer and Raven had argued like kids; Raven demanding more maturity from her leader, Summer wanting to know why Raven thought herself so much better. But four years later and none of them would disagree that Summer Rose was the best of them, the shining light of her generation like the moon that guided the lost and lonely.

“Well, she’s right. And I’m glad she refuses to let you stalk me, Rosebud,” Qrow teased, putting a hand on her head and turning her around with a flick of his wrist. Summer batted his hand away, smiling at the playful antics from her friend. “But now I’ve got a fight to prep for, and you’ve got some cheering to do. If I don’t hear you over everyone else, I might just throw the match.”

Summer seemed to take that as a challenge, judging by the devious glint in her eye. He pitied Tai, Raven, and whichever unknowing fools had sat next to her.

The next ten minutes passed in a blur with doctors monitoring his vitals and aura, mechanics overseeing his weapon, and security ensuring he hadn’t smuggled anything in for the fight. Once he’d been given the all clear, he was escorted to the main arena, walking out to deafening applause as Professor Port announced his name. Being a crowd favourite was certainly unusual for Qrow. He took up his spot at the end of the line, eight competitors ready to fight for the glory of their kingdoms. He stared straight ahead. He could feel eyes on him. Not the hundreds of spectators, though; someone else. It didn’t take much thought to piece together who was eyeing him. Qrow resolved to not give him the satisfaction.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,” Oobleck reported. He spoke so quickly most quietened just to understand him, so he was a natural at grabbing the spotlight, clearing the floor for Port’s boisterous attitude. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for is just about to begin. The Vytal Festival one versus one round!” 

Deafening applause almost made Qrow wince. He couldn’t hear Summer yet, though. 

“Professor Port, if you please.”

“Why of course!” He said, placing a finger on the screen in front of him. All eyes moved away from the students standing at the centre of the world’s attention, and instead to the screen, where their matches would be decided. While harmless, Qrow couldn’t help but feel like his fate was being decided for him. Eventually, the blur of faces began to slow, more detail slowly coming into focus. It stopped on a man with slightly sunken eyes and messy strands of hair down on his forehead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our first combattant is Qrow Branwen!”

Of course it was. Qrow stepped forward, unwilling to look at the crowd. Rather than bother them, it only seemed to fuel their screaming. 

“And second?” Oobleck prompted, and Port flicked his finger on the screen once again. 

This time, when it stopped, Qrow noticed his opponent’s eyes first. They were glistening green, even in a still-life picture, brimming with a layer of youth like dew atop a leaf. His smile was infectious like the first breath of spring that enchanted the land and brought it to life after winter’s frigid reign. He was a lot of things Qrow would never be, but it was something else that bugged him about his shark-like smile. It was something tugging at his heart, trying to pull it down, daring it to fall. He worried if he let go of his grip for just a second, it would fall and shatter. Something so fragile would never survive.

“Clover Ebi!” 

Qrow only registered his name. He had to look at Clover now; the rest of the participants were clearing out to allow them space to fight. As soon as the last one had left, the section of ground they were standing on began to move, lifting him up into the greedy eyes of hundreds. 

“Good luck,” Clover called out to him. He was all smiles and laughter, as though he’d been waiting a hundred lifetimes to face Qrow like this. Qrow couldn’t change the mask on his face; a look of steel impassiveness. 

“Never needed it,” Qrow shot back, turning on his heel to one end of the platform which would house their fight. Always one to keep up appearances, Clover still smiled at him like he was incapable of doing a damn thing wrong. 

They both kept a tight hold of their weapons, Qrow filtering out the chorus-like yelling of the spectators. Nothing mattered but the man standing before him. Nothing else mattered.

A blaring horn signalled the start of their fight. Neither man moved too fast, beginning to slowly circle each other, holding their weapons, gradually closing the distance between themselves. They stared into each other’s eyes, both hunting for a warning signal, a flare that would betray the others intentions faster than the twitch of their muscles. 

At first, it appeared Qrow would go on the offensive. A subtle movement of his thumb transformed Harbinger and allowed him to fire a bullet in Clover’s direction, eager to get a feel for how he moved. Like water he flowed just barely out of reach, feet moving with careful precision. Like the dummy’s he destroyed just hours before, he moved in a way that Qrow had long since learned to identify as the fighting style taught by Atlas. Strong and tall like an old oak tree. 

Something else was hiding just beneath the surface. Sparks of it filtered through like light through a prism. It was in the way he rolled his shoulders or his hips as he moved, or the delicate grip on his weapon, a perfect blend of strength and grace. A flick of his wrist shot Kingfisher forward, the rope taut - as Qrow batted it to the side fearlessly, he noted Clover’s deft fingers manipulating a series of buttons near the hilt, not too unlike Harbinger. When he let go, the line grew loose, and at the press of another button, it began to reel itself back in after its failed attack. He stopped it halfway, gripping the rope near the detached blade. 

It cracked like lightning in his hands, and he sent it forward like he were a God casting down thunderbolts, terrifying speed and force that Qrow felt he would buckle underneath if he faced. He brandished it like a whip, manipulating it with such careful poise and hidden power Qrow would have stopped to look at him in wonder if it weren’t for the fact he was currently trying to weather the storm. 

They were locked in a deadly dance, Qrow unloading every bullet he had, none finding their mark. Clover’s attacks were chasing down a Qrow whose movements got slower and slower, choosing to dodge and preserve his strength rather than meet him head on. It all changed when Qrow noticed the way Clover’s smirk deepened, and Kingfisher’s blade flew forward in a straight line. Qrow had been so focused on thinking of a way to attack, and then blindsided by that bastard’s cocky smirk, he noticed too late Clover had already gotten him all figured out.

Kingfisher hit him directly in the chest, the force of the blow sending him tumbling back. Harbinger twisted at a right angle, stabbing into the ground to steady himself as he brought himself back to his feet. The way he glared at Clover didn’t seem to phase him; in fact, the resident boy scout only raised an eyebrow as if mocking him. Goading him onwards.

He had no clue who he was messing with, did he? 

Qrow wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face with his own bare hands. But that previous stunt had just reminded him of the steps he had to take to be careful. Qrow’s Semblance manifested in many different ways, but that had to be the strangest one - perhaps it had knocked Clover’s balance off as he swung. 

So Qrow wouldn’t go on the aggressive just yet. He had to wait for a guaranteed moment to strike - the risks of trying to force an opening were far too great. He had to wait. 

In the stands of the festival, an uneasy look was shared between the members of Team STRQ. Summer turned to Raven for answers.

“You notice it too, right?” Her voice was almost faint.

“Of course I notice it, he’s my brother,” Raven snapped. She sighed, offering Summer a look of apology; it wasn’t like her to be so high strung. Nothing could hide the way her weary eyes kept watching Qrow’s every move. “It’s like he’s worried. He’s not focusing on the fight.”

“He’s holding back,” Taiyang muttered. He was shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Qrow was many things, but he was running from the fight like a terrified cat, jumping at shadows. “It’s not like him to be so careful. He hasn’t even tried to use his scythe yet.” 

Always the most perceptive, Summer’s eyes peered with a glimmer of clarity. “His Semblance,” she spoke softly, and her teammates nodded in solemn agreement. They’d all reached the same conclusion. “It always gets worse when he’s feeling worried.”

“And he’s been worked up by this guy for no reason, too,” Taiyang added, shrugging weakly to his teammates. “Probably not the biggest fan of a walking lucky charm.” 

“None of that matters,” Raven said, in her best attempt at sounding cold. “I tried to help him this morning. I told him to focus on the fight. If he can’t do that, he deserves to lose.” 

They began to turn their attention back to the fight with breath held carefully still. It wasn’t until Qrow narrowly ducked under a swing from Kingfisher and made no attempt to strike back for the fifth time and Taiyang nearly ripped out his own hair that Summer flew up from her chair, yelling in a voice frightfully loud for such a small girl.

“Kick his butt, Qrow!” 

Spurred on by Summer, she was a spark that started a fire; Taiyang stood up too, yelling encouragement until his voice ran hoarse. Raven stayed seated, casting them a disapproving look for their interruption, almost sorry for the people around them.

Almost. When she was sure nobody was watching her, the corner of her lip curled up into a grin.

The fight had stalled for a brief moment, Qrow gazing up at his teammates in wonder. Even Clover had stopped, out of respect and courtesy that would never get him far if his life was on the line. It didn’t last forever. What broke the silence on the battlefield was the crack of Kingfisher flying towards Qrow. 

WIthout even looking, Qrow raised Harbinger. Rather than blocking the blow, he caught the rope with the tip of his blade, wrapping it tightly around. He saw Clover’s eyes widen in shock at the sudden change of pace, and just a second before the fight began anew, Qrow gave him a wink. 

Pulling hard, Qrow used every bit of his surprising strength to bring Clover hurtling towards him like a missile. 

A second before they collided, Qrow stepped to the side, out of harm’s way. Harbinger transformed into a scythe, freeing the weapon from Kingfisher’s rope, and Clover was powerless to stop Qrow from landing his first clean hit, sending him crashing to the ground. He took it in stride like a soldier, quickly pushing himself to his feet and wiping dirt off his shoulder. Kingfisher’s tip reattached itself, then retracted back into the handle, and Clover brandished it like a rapier, lunging forward in a rapid blow Qrow barely had time to deflect. The two dissolved into a blurred and chaotic storm. When one grew faster, the other quickly sped up to match, and took it one step forward. 

Clover was the one who took back control with a devious trick that earned Qrow’s full attention. He thrust forward and missed, pushing Qrow forward to punish his mistake. It was too late that Qrow realized he had baited his hook with human failure, and like a fool he had fallen for it. No Atlas soldier - even one as extraordinary as Clover - ever had a foot out of line. 

The tip of Kingfisher detached with a hiss, and hooked itself in the hole of Harbinger’s scythe form - the barrel of its gun form. Qrow found himself tumbling in mid air, and then a blunt and brutal swing to his stomach taking a sizeable chunk from his Aura. When at last he stopped skidding against the metal tiles of their arena, he stood, cracking his neck as he panted.

“Lucky strike,” Qrow spat.

“I think that one was all skill,” Clover teased, beginning to walk and close the distance between them again.

Qrow chuckled at his comment. “I think you’ll find unfortunate mishaps like that are usually my doing.”

Clover stopped walking now, smile fading just a little. He gazed into Qrow’s eyes softly. “Do you know what my Semblance is?” Clover asked, and Qrow’s silence was answer enough. Before he could open his mouth to offer a sly remark, Clover’s lips parted to share a revelation like a message from the gods. 

“It’s good luck.”

Eyes widening in shock, Qrow took a step back, almost falling off the arena. Like dominoes falling in a chain reaction, or the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place, it all made sense. All throughout the fight, he’d been worried by the lack of small symbols of bad luck. He was making no attempt to influence his Semblance - he could never control it. It was a wild beast and impossible to tame. Whenever he did, instead of slowly seeping out like rot, it would come forward like a tidal wave, destroying anything and everything in its path. 

This was what he’d always wanted. A fair fight. No Semblance to worry about. An opponent every bit as strong as he was. 

The next time Qrow made a sound, it was laughter. Rocking, vivacious laughter that sprung from his chest like wildfire that he couldn’t contain. Each breath contained a fear he was letting go. Bringing a hand to his head, he brought himself back up to his full height, staring at Clover. His hair was slicked back, no longer resting against his forehead. Clover couldn’t look away as if he were bewitched, eyes slightly widened. 

“You’re gonna regret telling me that,” Qrow warned. 

Clover jumped back to avoid a horizontal slice from Qrow’s scythe. Unrelenting, Qrow pushed forward, forcing him to dodge increasingly more accurate slices, until something in Clover’s eyes snapped. His eyes narrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow. 

It excited Qrow. It made every hair stand on edge like they were saluting him. To see that professional warmth drop away to reveal something different. To see him stop trying to fight fair, and instead fight to win, because they were on such even footing they’d take forever to get somewhere if they played it by the book. 

So Qrow wasn’t as surprised as he should’ve been when Clover revealed a trick he’d been hiding. Kingfisher’s tip flew to the side, its hook embedding itself in the ground. A soft purple glow enveloped it like a light turning on, and a vial on Clover’s waist did the same. The synchronized gravity Dust sought each other out, allowing Clover to use Kingfisher to traverse the arena as if he were using a grappling hook. Qrow’s swing was too slow this time, barely missing its mark, piercing the material of Clover’s jacket and ripping it off before he flew out of reach.

Wasting no time, Kingfisher soared in a narrow arc as soon as Clover landed, catching Qrow by the cape - he hadn’t expected it to come out so fast. It was all the proof Qrow needed that Clover was serious now too. Like clockwork, Clover activated Kingfisher’s gravity Dust again - only this time, he activated the vial on his waist first, causing Kingfisher to reel Qrow in like he was the world’s deadliest catch.

He had no time for patience, care, or to pull his punches. Qrow swung wildly behind him as he was pulled through the air, eventually feeling the pull from Kingfisher stop. Spinning in mid air, he saw red flecks of fabric floating through the air like rose petals caught in the breeze, and he recognized them as his torn up cape. He landed close to the floor, using his hand to balance himself, shifting Harbinger and firing shot after shot in Clover’s direction.

Flourishing Kingfisher again, he deflected the bullets. Qrow snarled in frustration. Like a meteor he flew through the air, the recoil of a shot from Harbinger being used to propel him, shifting in mid-air back to a scythe. It was a trick he’d learned from Taiyang, but never quite learned how to incorporate into his own style.

Clover met his strike halfway, neither willing to give even a little in their test of strength. They pushed into each other with only their weapons separating them, getting so close Qrow could see every line and imperfection in Clover’s face. Qrow broke their struggle with an underhanded tactic, headbutting Clover and forcing him to recoil in pain. Clover retaliated by batting Kingfisher against Qrow’s swordhand with such strength Qrow had no option but to release. 

Like the flame of a candle, the memory of his fight against Raven flickered into view - he used the moment of what Clover would perceive as a small victory to humble him. A sharp and bony elbow found its mark in Clover’s unsurprisingly firm chest, then on his own elbow. Kingfisher fell to the ground, resting at their feet. Qrow forced Clover back with punch after punch, and so began a battle of hand to hand combat. 

Unfortunately for Qrow, the training of bandit tribes and four years at Beacon couldn’t compare to the masterful expertise offered by an entire life studying at Atlas. Where Qrow’s movements were sloppy, Clover’s were that of a dancer. Where Clover gave the other man no chances for an easy opening, Qrow was made of mistakes. Qrow couldn’t match Clover in raw strength, either - and so when they collided, it was Qrow who winced in pain.

Qrow’s attempt at a sly trick backfired so spectacularly he’d blame it on his Semblance if he could. A low sweep from his legs sends Clover to meet the ground, yet a firm grip on his shirt beckons him forward, as if it were dragging him down into the sea. They struggle for power, until Clover’s superior strength prevails, and like a lion hungry for flesh, he pins Qrow down, holding both of his wrists. ”Concede!”

When the dust clears, Clover realizes he is sitting atop him, against his hips as a king would sit on a throne. Qrow’s eyes are wide in shock, staring up at him. The way his hair, damp with sweat, was beginning to stray. The veins of his arms and chest sticking out like lines on a map, beckoning Qrow’s needy eyes and calloused hands forward. Their eyes meet as the haze of adrenaline begins to wear off. It’s Qrow Branwen who breaks it, using the situation to his advantage. 

“You’re beautiful,” he gasped between breaths. 

The look on Clover’s face was a prize Qrow would pay any price to see again.  
A buck of his hips upsets Clover’s balance, sending him forward. With a surge of strength, he pushes back against Clover’s weight, bashing his head against Clover’s face - he hoped he didn’t break anything. Wrestling himself free, he pushed Clover away, grabbing Kingfisher as he brought himself to his feet. Pushing forward on the offensive, Clover barely avoids a cut that would’ve decimated what was left of his Aura. A hand slips to his waist, the vial of Gravity Dust - he activates it and throws it away, out of reach of the arena. Qrow can barely reach a hand forward to deactivate the Dust atop Kingfisher’s tip in time. When he turns to face his perfect rival, he holds Harbinger in his hand.

They each mirror the other’s movements as if they were reflections, repeating the beginning of the fight on opposite sides; until the hunger for victory takes Clover too far over the edge. He sidesteps Kingfisher, easily able to read his own weapons movements, and with precision rivaling that of the finest archer, severs Kingfisher’s connection, cutting the rope clean in two. 

Retracting what was left of the now useless rope, Qrow had to step forward to meet him. They traded blows like they were old friends, rivals since the dawn of time. Qrow feints a blow arcing upwards, and in response, Clover swings Harbinger down. 

There were no more second chances for Clover Ebi.

Ducking down as if to avoid the swing, Qrow reached out and clicked a button on Harbinger’s hilt - changing Harbinger into its war-scythe form mid-swing. The now extended blade sat almost horizontally, and the wider angle meant Clover’s swing instead impaled the ground. It was a form he hadn’t used once in the entire tournament, and its existence was Clover’s undoing. 

“Well played,” Clover sighed, giving Qrow a warm smile blistering with affection. Qrow reciprocated with a strike powerful enough to send him flying, green Aura splintering like a mirror cracking mid-flight. A horn sounded off again to signify the end of the fight, and at the end of it all, Qrow Branwen stood victorious.

“That was a good fight, Clover,” Qrow complimented, walking over to a man he wasn’t sure how to feel about anymore. His voice was barely audible against the backdrop of a cheering crowd - loudest of all being Summer.

Clover chuckled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “That means a lot coming from you,” Clover said, and for once, Qrow believed it wasn’t a lie. 

Offering a hand on his shoulder - and waist - for support, he smirked. “Compliments will get you nowhere. But c’mon, let’s get you patched up.”

“And you,” Clover chimed in. 

“You barely even scratched me, I’m fine!” Qrow teased, and Clover almost looked offended. They bickered as they walked down the hallway to the makeshift infirmary of the Vytal Festival, discovering that neither one of them wanted the conversation to end, and both pretending not to notice the vice-like grips they had on each other, both too scared to be the first to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check me out on tumblr mi always screaming!!! @dahkani  
> special thanks to raynyday from the fg discord for beta-reading and catching my Small Brain moments, many thanks luv


	3. All Is Fair In Love And War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute first date, Clover backstory, and ANGST fuelled by overthinking and the everlooming fact they both know they're not built to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/kHXUYhny5xM

Though their muscles ached, a red string of fate still pulled them together. In the infirmary, the doctors and nurses could barely keep the two still, bristling with energy as they talked. They were a car speeding through red lights, a bowstring pulled back; they had their aim and no cause to believe they might just miss. As soon as they were clear, they burst out the door and left the arena, drowning out the sounds with compliments for each other.

“I never would’ve expected you to cut up your own cape just to win a fight.”

Qrow snorted. “You’re one to talk. You broke your own weapon.”

Clover laughed at that, not stumbling once. Of everyone Qrow had met, he was unique in that regard - the way he could take all of Qrow’s brutal honesty and sly quips only to come out smiling. Qrow wondered if there was anything he could say to make him falter.

“I guess it was the competition,” Clover said with a short-lived wink, a spark in the wind. “Where to now, then?”

Qrow didn’t bother replying; he simply tilted his head to the right and began walking towards the festival grounds. Clover voiced no objection, walking by his side like his reflection in a mirror. Qrow had his hands in his pockets, the shredded remnant of his cape blowing softly in the wind that rustled his hair. Clover walked with poise, hands by his sides, confidence brimming from him like a fountain. Standing next to him made Qrow want to stand a little taller himself. They walked closer together than they had any right to be; if they reached out just a little, their hands would brush.

If they chased that hope until the ends of the earth, where could they go from there?

Qrow stopped at the first half-decent booth he found, selling all sorts of noodles. Clover chuckled as he took up a seat next to him, ordering the same dish he did. While they waited, there was nothing left to do but talk.

“It’s taking a while for me to get used to Beacon. To Vale in general. It’s a lot different from Atlas.” Clover mused, leaning against the wooden bar. 

“Hmph. Sure sounds like it,” he remarked, failing to hide much of the disdain in his voice. Clover raised a concerned eyebrow.

“You sound like you’ve got something to say.”

“Does it matter?”

“I want to hear it,” Clover said. As if it were simple as could be.

Qrow sighed as he attempted to search for the words to describe it. To him, Atlas seemed like a distant island, a suffocating grey or a white too pristine to be natural. It unnerved him to see those soldiers, more and more robotic by the day; until actual robots had begun to take their place. It would tear at him to see his friends reduced to that in the name of any order or academy. He was glad that Clover still shined with human vulnerability. It was a beckoning light that Qrow couldn’t help but follow, curious what hid just underneath the surface.

“It’s just not really my style,” Qrow said, caving in at the way Clover’s gaze hardened on him, demanding more. Nobody else was quite so eager to hear him insult their kingdom. “So many people from Atlas barely even act human. Not everyone, sure - but I’ve fought Atlas students before in training matches and past festivals. They’ve all fought the same way every time with a shiny new weapon and a Semblance they’ve practically beaten into submission. The ones that stand out from the crowd? It’s like Atlas doesn’t even train them at all. You’re the first one I’ve seen that’s been unique AND strong. I’ve never seen anyone from Atlas quite like you.”

Clover laughed weakly, shaking his head in awe. “You should see the rest of my team. Robyn would probably shake your hand if she heard you.”

Qrow raised his eyebrows, not sure what to say. Clover took the hint.

“I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from. But don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh to say they’re barely acting human?” Clover challenged, leaning forward with his arms resting on the bar. “The world’s a harsh place, so people take comfort in order and peace. What’s more human than that?”

A short silence fell between them until Qrow rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Didn’t expect to debate the nature of humanity when I came here with you, but I’ll be sure to do my research for next time, boy scout.” His voice was playfully charged with bashful teasing. As always, Clover didn’t back down.

“Next time, huh?” 

Neither of them dared utter another word. Yet the silence between them felt like the weight of the world, and it was Qrow who crumbled first, desperate for relief. 

“Your team,” he said. “Tell me about them. You’ve mentioned Robyn.”

Clover looked stunned at the change of topic; he was too quick-witted to not notice how Qrow seemed to want to ignore the tension between them. Yet he was too weak for Qrow, too kind to push the topic further, and so let him slide away this time. 

“Well, there’s Robyn. She’s got many of the same opinions you do about Atlas. Brightest mind of our entire year, if you ask me. She can definitely hold her own, but she’s not the best fighter going thanks to her Semblance. Marrow, you saw in the doubles round; he’s got enthusiasm in spades and no shortage of talent. He even managed to come to Atlas Academy a year early. He’ll go far if he doesn’t let it go to his head. Then, there’s Harriet. She’s a go-getter and hates it when we slow her down. We’ve had to learn how to keep pace with her, and she’s had to learn when to pull back for everyone’s sake. She’ll probably give me hell for losing to you, too, but they’re a good bunch.”

“Hmph. They sure sound like it.” Qrow didn’t sound dishonest, at least, but there was a sense of derision in his voice, and he was looking at Clover like he knew something the little lucky charm didn’t. Amusement danced on his face like sunlight and he made no attempt to hide how his smile deepened the more confused Clover looked.

“Is something wrong?” Clover asked, careful of where he tread and what he said.

“Nothing. Just glad to know I pegged you as well as you seem to have pegged me.” 

Clover was stumped now. He’d have the sense to feel embarrassed if he didn’t feel so blissfully safe being with Qrow. Instead, he just looked at the other student as if he were a wonder, praying that he’d explain himself. By the grace of any god watching over them, he did. 

“I asked about your team and you didn’t once mention yourself. Are you not the ‘C’ in CHRM?” 

Clover’s cheeks went crimson, the shade of Qrow’s cape, and widened in surprise. He stumbled over his words like he were on ice, while Qrow watched him with mirth, bemused at how easy it had been for the both of them to get under each other’s skin. It was weakness they were both willing to share, conceding ground just to watch the other conquer, contesting who wore the crown of victory better. Hungrily, they stared, like blind eyes seeing light. 

“Well, it’s rude to talk about yourself too much,” Clover finally managed, recovering gradually but the tips of his ears were like blooming rosebuds. 

“And it’s bad to forget yourself completely,” Qrow countered. Leaning forward in his chair again, he took a swig from his drink before turning to lock eyes with Clover. “Besides. I like hearing about you more than any of them. No offense.”

For once in his life, Clover was at a loss for words. It had been a long time since anyone had seen all the stars in Atlas and found him to shine the brightest. Clover had gotten recognition from fellow students, professors, and headmasters alike yet never felt quite as seen as when Qrow looked at him. When someone had bested him and not cast him aside as irrelevant when fate wasn’t on his side. When someone had fought him and seen his skill and his skill alone, and the fire that burned in his eyes to be so good, nobody could call it luck.

“So tell me about yourself.” 

Qrow speaking brought him back to attention and left him wondering how long he’d sat there looking starstruck. Clearing his throat he sat upright, desperate to reclaim any respect he might have lost. 

“I was born in Mantle. Ever since the capital moved to Atlas, things have been rough down there. My mother barely had enough money to get by most days. She made me promise that if I were lucky enough to get a chance, I’d take the first escape out of there.” Clover said, his eyes fogging over with memories. Qrow leaned in, eager to hold the burden for him, gazing at him like he was a masterpiece. 

“She worked hard to make sure I’d get the chances she didn’t. She pushed me to be the best I could be at anything I wanted to be. When I got into my first combat school, she was over the moon. When I made it to Atlas, she cried hugging me goodbye. And when I unlocked my Semblance, she teared up on the phone at her wish coming true. She gave me my pin the day I left Mantle and went to Atlas.

“I’m going to be the greatest Huntsman I can be. When I graduate, I’m going to make Mantle a better place. For the sake of my kingdom. And I’m going to be a Huntsman she can always be proud of.”

Qrow’s watchful eyes softened as they shimmered with emotion. He reached out, a reassuring hand on Clover’s shoulder, the corner of his lip curled into a delicate smile, like the first ray of sunshine at daybreak. 

“I think you already are.”

“Not if I’m still losing to you,” Clover teased, bouncing back into his youthful energy with a second wind. As if Qrow’s touch had revitalised him. Qrow shot him daggers, retracting his hand, and Clover merely chuckled before pressing onward shamelessly. “So what about you?”

An innocent question that Qrow, by all means, should have seen coming. Yet it ran over him like ice on a river, freezing him to his chair. He had to speak - say something, before it became suspicious, before Clover worried and asked too many questions and he shattered like glass under those watchful, warm, inviting eyes.

“I grew up outside the kingdoms with my twin sister, Raven.”

A good start, he told himself.

“We attended a combat school in Vale. Then, we came to Beacon.”

...Clover was still watching him. The look in his eyes - of sympathy, of a desire to understand, of hope - made it impossible to lie to him. But how could he speak the truth and scare him off just like that? 

“All my life I’ve had to fight to survive. It’s been nice just getting to live for a change,” he chuckled, avoiding Clover’s eyes. “And if coming here means I got to fight you, then I suppose it might just have been better than I thought it’d be. Sorry I ain’t got much of a story like yours.”

Clover merely chuckled, shaking his head like it were silly. “Just means we’ll have to get you some better memories to look back on.”

“This is a good start,” he admitted, raising his glass to Clover. “And I’ll drink to that.” Clover laughed, raising his own drink and finishing it off too. 

“You might actually win this whole thing, you know,” Clover said, eyes twinkling and voice riddled with amusement. “Better hope it doesn’t go to your head.”

“Already has, and all your compliments,” Qrow scoffed, grinning all the same.

“Guess I won’t give you any more compliments for the sake of your ego, then.”

“Now who told you to stop?” 

They laughed together, now, leaning in without realizing it; then, both pretending not to notice the gap between their hands, or how their thighs brushed together when they moved. Qrow felt the distance between them growing closer, his head beginning to inch forwards, and he could have sworn that Clover moved too - until they both drew back, silently agreeing not to speak of their lapse in judgement. It was foolish to fall too fast. 

“I think I should get back to my team,” Qrow said, suddenly breathless again; a feat only Clover could manage. “Summer can get awfully protective.”

Clover chuckled, and his eyes betrayed no malice, just a hint of regret. Qrow wondered what it was that threatened to eat him alive. “I suppose I can’t run from my own team forever.”

“So this was just an excuse not to see them?” Qrow mocked, causing Clover to laugh again. It was a sound Qrow would stop at nothing to hear again.

“This was something unrelated to any of my team. This was you and only you.”

“Well, I like the sound of that. You better watch my next match. I’ll beat them just for you.”

Clover rolled his eyes, standing up to leave, rolling his shoulders and making Qrow stare. “That may just be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he said drolly.

Qrow stood up too, surprised again at the fact Clover was just a bit taller than him, and so much bigger. They stood still, as if awaiting the end of time, neither sure of what to do; only sure of what they wished for. Yet dreams can never quite come to pass, and so they merely smiled and said their goodbyes, passing each other by like stars in the sky. 

\-- ⚙ -- 

Qrow stared at the mattress above him, eyes tracing the outline of Taiyang, desperate for something to do to keep his mind off of him. 

Clover stared at the wall by his side, awash in the pale light of the moon in the sky, seeing shapes that looked like him. 

What a mess they had made of such a pure and simple thing. With their clumsy dancing around the truth; around the compliments they shared and the scars they bared. How they longed to fall into the arms of another, certain they’d finally found the one, yet too keenly aware of where all their faults were, beckoning them onwards to crash and burn. 

Qrow cursed every time he’d slipped out of reach of those loving arms. Wished he’d been kinder, said a little more, smiled a little wider in a way that reached his eyes. Yet how could he? Who was he to fall into a love he knew was doomed from the start? Clover’s affection was a naive promise of someone who didn’t know what storm they were starting. When the last word was said, they would both be pulled far away, to different corners of the world so they could stand as diametrically opposed as their Semblances. Qrow couldn’t put himself through that pain - he couldn’t put either of them through it. What good was a day of heaven if it came with the promise of countless nights in hell? 

Clover regretted every time he’d pushed too hard. He was coming on too strong and he knew it. Did Qrow even feel the same way? It was stupid of him to feel so strongly for someone he knew so little about; yet the way Qrow’s mystery waxed and waned like the flicker of a flame on the wick of a candle kept him guessing, eager to unravel every inch of his truth and commit it to memory, or to paper like a map. There was something intoxicating in the way he spoke his mind so fearlessly, his confidence that just barely stepped over the line into arrogance, so charismatically charming and magnetic. Clover was caught in his orbit and couldn’t cut himself loose; so why not fall, and fall hard, just to have something to remember each other by? They may not be built to last, but the ghost of Qrow’s touch already haunted him too much for him to handle. 

They found comfort in their wildest dreams, holding on to the other. They found peace with their eyes closed, dancing in their love. They found torment when they woke, reaching out for the warmth they had dreamt of, and how it vanished like mist when they touched it. What a mess they had made of love. But at least all was fair in love and in war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha gee gosh i sure hope qrow not telling the truth doesn't come back to bite him in the ass haha say sike right now  
> follow me on twitter!! https://twitter.com/dahkanii
> 
> i post all my fics there and im way more active than tumblr hehe


	4. Lovesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello im alive! 
> 
> this chapter is mostly setup and is also FAR below the standards of what i normally like to post in terms of both length and quality but i just wanted to let people know i was alive and plan to update this fic again! it's currently 6am and i'm exhausted so i cut the chapter short to get it out earlier so people know it's coming. chapter 5 will be their actual date and i want it to be... wonderful, so i'm going to pour my heart into it when i'm more awake.
> 
> until then, enjoy this!

A day of rest before the ending of the Vytal Festival’s tournament. The festivities, of course, would continue for another week after the tournament had been concluded, so that the competing teams and students could partake. For now, though, Qrow could enjoy a Sunday where he could do anything at all. 

He woke, at last, groggy and dazed. A pang of pain shot through his head, a dull hum ringing in his ears, and his joints ached as if filled with lead. There was still a dry and raw burn to his eyes. Every movement was forced, as if swimming through tar. It took all his effort to simply… get up. His sleep had been restless even when he’d finally drifted away. The last thing he remembered was a deep pain of regret. When he followed that feeling like a light through a tunnel, his face burst into his mind: almond hair, pale skin, green eyes. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” came a voice from the left. A body to the left of him, barely pressing against his leg through the duvet. His heart leapt to his throat, a hundred and one different scenarios racing through his head, but only one name ringing clear in his head. He shot up, sitting upright, mouth twisting around the syllables, a mere heartbeat away from speaking --.

Until he saw a flash of blond hair and a cheeky grin, and he remembered that no, of course Clover wouldn’t have somehow snuck into his room to see him. 

“The hell d’you want, Tai?” Grumbled a disgruntled Qrow, wiping sleep from his eyes and glowering at him. Sunlight was already streaming in through their open window, and every breath of fresh air felt monumental in waking himself up. Taiyang, however, seemed more than awake; a rare sight for someone who slept so heavily. He chanced a glance at his scroll: midday. No wonder, then. He only slept this long when he was hungover, usually. 

“I wanted to check up on you. Rough time sleeping, eh?” Taiyang asked, compassion practically burning in his eyes. 

“No. Why?” He lied through his teeth. But for all his skill at lying, Taiyang saw through him like he always did. Hard to lie to someone who knows you so well. 

“I heard you tossing and turning all night. Even when I woke up, you  _ still  _ looked like you were having a bad dream or something. Came back… still never seen you look so grim. Everyone was getting worried seeing you sleep in so much.”

Qrow merely tutted his frustration, avoiding that warm gaze. Warmth and comfort never felt natural to someone so used to sitting in the shade, just out of reach. He doubted that anyone could ever fix that aching hole in his chest. Even when he gave in, it was only ever at arms length. Enough so he could easily get out of such suffocating warmth.

“Bad sleep’s enough to get you all panicked?” He asked, voice gritty and dry as gravel as he spoke. He knew he was deflecting. He knew he was lashing out. Didn’t make it any easier to stop.

“Not just that, Qrow,” Taiyang sighed. When he looked up at him next, it was with a strange new glimmer in his eyes… something almost like pity. It didn’t sting as bad as it usually did, though. Maybe it was concern?

“You’ve been weird for the past two days and you didn’t even tell us where you went after your match with Clover. It’s like something’s getting at you.” 

Well, wasn’t that the truth? Something was eating him alive, and it was the memory of that pretty little boy scout. 

No. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t him. What was burning his skin was the fact he wasn’t here. Like every part of his body was ill and he was the cure - like every part of his body was screaming for his attention. 

Like a lovesick fool that didn’t know better. Lucky he had his good sense to steer clear.

“Just don’t like those Atlesian types.” It was such a weak lie. 

“That’s not true,” piped up a familiarly bright voice. Summer was perched on her bed - she had a worrying habit of showing up out of nowhere, deceptively easy to miss. Once you do notice her, though, she sticks out almost like a sore thumb. “Those Atlesian types never bothered you any other year. What’s wrong, Qrow? You had a good fight. Everyone could see how much you two were enjoying yourselves. Then, after the fact, you both vanished, and we didn’t see you until we came back here.”

Qrow didn’t offer a response; he merely turned his head away from Summer and this apparent intervention for his unhealthy coping habits of ‘ignore it until it’s gone and pretend you don’t notice how  _ badly  _ your skin is  _ burning _ for just one more hit’. Tough love always hit hard. They both clearly knew more than they let on, judging by what they were saying. Or at least thought they did. And nobody wanted to be the first to say it. How typical. It made him angry. It pulled at his throat like a finger at a bowstring, and those words were the arrow, poised right for his own heart. Three dainty words. Too hard to say. Too powerful for their own good. The worst thing a man like Qrow could ever say to someone like Clover.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the warm touch of Taiyang’s finger against his arm, leaning in, smiling warmly. “It’s okay to be scared, Qrow. But you can’t run from every good thing just because you’re worried you might get it wrong.” 

The thought made him weak. It almost made his lip quiver. But he was more than capable of pulling a mask over his feelings, even if Clover made it hard; even harder when someone as perceptive was Tai was almost raring to tear down every last wall he put up. “I barely even know him.”

This time, it was Summer that piped up. “You barely knew us when we met. Isn’t that the whole point of it?” 

“It’s not the same,” he shot back, shaking his head and speaking like it wasn’t just Summer he was trying to convince. “I didn’t… feel this way for you guys. It’s stupid to feel so strongly for someone you just met.”

Summer had crossed to Qrow’s bed, now, reaching out to hold him in her arms, hugging him tight as if it would be the last time. All her hugs were like that. “I knew I’d care about you guys the minute I first met you all. Some people are just special like that. Nothing anybody can do about it.” She pulled back, one hand still resting on his shoulder, silver eyes glistening: she meant every word she said.

Qrow was running out of excuses, and some fire in his chest was close to being lit, a stick of dynamite slowly ticking down. “What if I hurt him?”

Taiyang just shook his head, smiling as if all the answers were so obvious. “You’ll hurt the people you love way more by not being near them at all. You have to let them know you love them, Qrow. If that’s not the point, what is?”

A dumbstruck look found its home on Qrow’s face, jaw slightly agape, as if every one of life’s answers had been answered at last. He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down, collecting himself. At last, he gave a short nod. 

“You’re right,” he muttered. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists like he was gathering all his strength for the hardest thing he’d ever do. “I’ve gotta go.”

\-- ⚙ --

A shower had been the right decision to clear his mind and psyche himself up. He stood in front of the mirror, saying nothing, thinking nothing at all; merely watching as if his reflection might vanish at any given moment. He had to do it sooner rather than later. Every day spent wishing he was here was a day spent without him, and who knows how many days they had left? 

Fully dressed, dried, and driven by purpose, he marched across Beacon campus towards the other sets of dorms. He had no idea where Atlas students would be staying, and had to ask numerous different students for help - earning strange glances that he’d seek them out, given his track record of hating the damn kingdom. At last, he found his mark, guided there by a woman with white hair, the Schnee emblem embroidered into her Atlas uniform. The irony amused him - how many crates had he ransacked from that one company alone?

Nevertheless, he knocked twice, as politely as he could, and shuffled his feet awkwardly as he waited. He felt so small, so self-conscious all of a sudden, and every possible flaw he could have sprung to mind all at once. His teeth, his breath, his hair, his clothes, even just the way he spoke - anything at all. The thoughts came one after the other, again and again, telling him how foolish he was, but still he stood strong until at last that door opened and his face instinctively brightened--.

“Marrow, for the last time, take your key with you if you’re going... --!”

Only to not find Clover at all, and to instead find a woman much smaller. White hair, too, quite like the one he’d followed here - but with a sharp face, dangerous eyes, a green coat that definitely wasn’t Atlas endorsed. She looked him up and down, but didn’t look confused as to who he was or his arrival. Instead, there was something like incredulous wonder in her eyes, like she didn’t quite believe he was actually standing in front of her.

“...Out. Qrow Branwen. May I help you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the side of the doorframe. She didn’t sound angry, at least. Closer to pleased, but not quite there either. 

“Uh, no. I’m just… passing through.” 

She stood up straight, eyes narrowing in disbelief, that smirk only deepening like he’d said exactly what she expected him to. She raised her hand out, inviting him to take it. Instinctively, he did. “Name’s Robyn Hill. Who were you looking for?” 

“Uh, nobody. Wrong room.”

A bright flash of red from their hands startled him backwards, eyes narrowing and preparing for some kind of dirty trick or an invitation to fight. Instead, he found no such threat; unless a woman smaller than you laughing her ass off at you was considered a threat.

“The hell was that?!”

Wiping a tear from her eyes, she caught her breath. With an exaggerated sigh of relief, she brought her attention back to him. “My semblance. Think of it like a lie detector when we touch hands. And sorry to tell ya, but it says you’re lying, and my semblance is never wrong.”

Qrow’s cheeks were burning red at the accusation, and he stuttered over his words like a baby learning to walk. “Wel-well, that just isn’t true! I didn’t mean to--, I mean, I didn’t know-!”

“You’re looking for Clover, right?”

The look of shock and the way he completely froze up was answer enough, and it roused another fit of laughter from her. 

“You missed him. He’s out training right now. Should be coming back within the next few minutes, though.” She left the door, leaving it open for Qrow to - awkwardly and sheepishly - make his way into the room, tapping it shut behind him. “Sticks to his schedule, that guy. Always working on something, too. Working, studying, cleaning, training… I swear, he’s like a shark or something. He thinks if he stops he’s gonna die.”

She took a seat next to one of the desks, sitting haphazardly across it with her arm around the side, watching Qrow with careful intent. There was a jarring disconnect between the open way she had freely invited him into the room, the way she spoke and how she sat, as though inviting him to make himself at home; and the way no smile was good enough to hide that jarring and sharp glimmer in her eye, sharp as a razor and quick as a whip. Like she was keenly aware of everything going on. It was an odd mix with a charismatic exterior hiding her intensity. Charming enough to make you drop your guard, but not enough to make you open up so easily. 

“Aren’t all you Atlas types like that, though?” Asked Qrow. He sat himself on the closest seat he could find, watching her carefully; but not too careful. This wasn’t an interrogation, after all. 

She scoffed at the notion. “Not all of us. Surprised you think I’m like that, considering I’m still here and everybody else isn’t.” Qrow had to concede that point, at least. 

A small silence, until Robyn interrupted it. She sure was making an effort for him.

“Congrats on beating Clover, by the way. Not easy, that. Think he’s the best of us, and that’s saying something. Though Harriet might disagree. Was a good fight to watch, too, even if a bit… heated.” 

That made the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment, and she almost looked pleased at how he had reacted; clearly she liked to tease. Whatever she meant by ‘heated’, she left to the imagination.

“Uh, thanks?” He tried, though clearly unsure of himself. As if picking up on his discomfort, her gaze softened for a second, and when she next spoke, it was just a little bit quieter.

“Ah, I’d love a chance to fight you. People in Atlas get old after a while, y’know? And I’d love to see how far I could get. Ah well - maybe next time, yeah?”

“Next time?” He asked, bemused and taken aback. What next time would there ever be for them?

“Well, yeah. If everything goes well, I mean.”

Qrow was left with more questions than answers, and opened his mouth to ask again - only to be interrupted by the creak of the door opening, and a stern voice that sounded practically alarmed but so distinctly…

“You’re not giving him a hard time, Robyn, are you?” 

Clover.

His head whipped around to look at him, and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. He cut an imposing figure, even when at ease, and for once wasn’t wearing that garish blue Atlus uniform - instead, a pale white vest that was practically sticking to his skin, and matching white sweatpants adorned with an Atlas logo at the bottom. A thin layer of sweat slick against his skin, hair messy and untamed, a far cry from its usual perfection, cheeks rosy and red, while every vein on his body looked like it might just pop.

“‘Course not, Clover.” She chuckled, locking eyes with him as if it were a challenge. “Besides. Think you’re the one doing that right now…”

Clover glanced back at Qrow in confusion; the man was currently staring at him with eyes so wide they might just fall out, a wine-like red creeping into his cheeks. When their eyes met, panic ran through him like electricity, and he practically jumped in his seat to look away and appear nonchalant. 

“Y’know, when Winter told me you were here, I didn’t really know what to think. Then I remembered you’d be locked in here with Robyn and, well…” He grimaced, though Robyn only smiled wider as if relishing in the fact. 

“I can leave, if you need me to, it’s no big deal, I just…” Qrow stuttered out, suddenly so unsure of himself again until at last he remembered why he came here. A deep breath to steady his nerves, he looked back at Clover, trying not to falter from just how gorgeous the man was to look at. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to… do something. Today. Spend some time together.”

It was Clover’s turn to be shocked. It almost hurt Qrow - had he let him down by how quickly he'd ran away yesterday? When he spoke, it was quick and frantic, as though worried he'd miss the chance. "I’d… I’d love to, Qrow. If you’re sure.”

The memory of how Qrow had recoiled away from him last time still rang fresh in his mind. Who could blame him? Once bitten.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” It was all he could do to make every promise possible, reassure every wailing voice in Clover’s mind that there was… something there. And it was up to them to figure out what it was. To decide if it was something worth saving. That was the whole point of it, right? And Qrow had never felt as at peace as when he was next to Clover - save all the times his frantic brain came up with every excuse to keep him at arm’s length. When those voices within him promised him that Clover only liked the idea of him, and when it all falls, he won’t like who’s staring back at him. 

A part of him was still scared. He’d have to tell Clover things that he’d never told anybody for fear it’d burn too hot. But what he felt for Clover - whatever feeling you could call it - was too great. Keeping a secret wasn’t worth losing him. So against what he once thought was his better judgement, he decided to fall, well and truly, and simply have faith he’ll understand. But how was it possible to say all that and more in a sentence? His soft, trembling smile would have to be enough. 

Judging by the look on Clover’s face, it would be.


End file.
